I Believe
by mutemockingjay
Summary: Massie had three things running through her mind. One, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing with Moritz Stiefel in the middle of the woods. Two, she wasn’t exactly sure where her dress was. Third, she was completly in love with him. SA/Clique X-Ove
1. Three Things

Massie Block used to know the difference between wrong and right. She always had. But right now, right here, those clear cut lines suddenly became blurred, as if they turned fuzzy and grey.

There were three things running through her mind right now.

One, she wasn't exactly sure what she was doing with Moritz Stiefel in the middle of the woods.

Two, she wasn't exactly sure where her dress was.

Third, whatever she was doing- sinful or angelic, right or wrong- she knew without a doubt she was completely, irrevocably in love with him.


	2. One Wish

_A/N: I am going on an updating spree at the moment. However, this is one of those stories (unlike Going Nowhere) where I have no idea what the hell I am doing and am just sort of going with the flow. So it shall be interesting for both of us. As always, I love your comments and all that jazz. _

* * *

It was all Melchior Gabor's fault, honestly. If he hadn't rejected her with a brusque, "go away," Massie would not be in the situation she was in now. But then again, maybe that was a good thing. If she hadn't stormed off in such a huff, she would never have bumped into Moritz Stiefel that spring day. And that was truly when her life began.

----

"Look at him. Isn't he beautiful?"

The girls sighed in unison, dew soaking through their stockings and dresses. Massie shifted uncomfortably, but the rest of her friends seemed not to mind. They were all focused on one thing- or rather, person.

Melchior Gabor. Every girl over the age twelve admired him from afar; it couldn't be helped. He was just so…..perfect, from his messy dark hair to his worn leather journal, which he carried everywhere. His journal was a source of mystery to the girls- what could he possibly be scribbling about all the time?

"Love notes," speculated Alicia, tugging the bodice of her dress. Her breasts strained the material in a manner that looked almost painful.

"Confessions for church." Kristen laughed her cackling laugh.

"Don't be stupid, he's never in church." Massie nudged her friend.

Dylan rolled over on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. "You know what I heard?"

All six girls turned to face her. "What?"

"I heard he doesn't believe in God."

There was an audible gasp, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out.

"How is that even possible?" Thea mused, braiding together stray strands of grass.

"How scandalous." Massie giggled.

"Mass?" Alicia's brown eyes twinkled, as if she had something deliciously fun up her sleeve.

"What?"

"I dare you to go up to him and ask him……" Alicia paused for a moment, considering.

"Ask him if he believes in God." Anna cut in eagerly.

Massie's stomach did a back flip. It was fine for her to admire Melchior from far away, but actually talking to him? She didn't think her weak stomach could handle it. Still, she stood up, wiping her palms on the sides of her dress. She wouldn't let them know that on the inside, she was trembling. It was a lesson she had taught herself over the years: never show fear.

"I suppose I could," she said offhandedly, hoping to create the impression that she talked to Melchior all the time. Naturally, she had never said two words to him, but they didn't need to know that.

She took a deep breath as she descended the hill, wracking her brain to think of something witty or clever, something that would make him notice her. By the time she had reached him on the riverbank, she had not thought of a blessed thing to say.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she approached him; he was even more beautiful up close. His arms….Massie swallowed hard as she took in the rippling muscle, the kind one gets from doing real, outdoors work. She ripped her gaze away from his arms and forced herself to look into his eyes. Unfortunately, that was an even worse choice. His eyes were a pale blue, so pale as to almost appear grey, like the sweeping morning fog.

He didn't seem to notice her there, or if he did, he didn't care. He continued writing, occasionally dipping his pen into a crystal inkpot nestled in the grass.

"Hello."

Massie wanted to bury her face in her hands for sounding so stupid, but instead settled for studying the flower print on her dress very carefully. It was quite soothing in a way, actually.

His words were sharp pointed, barbed wire against her heart. "Go away."

"I-what?"

He brushed her off easily, looking somewhat irritated. "I said go away. Leave me alone."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Massie stood up and tripped over her own feet in her haste to get away.

Rejection stung as a thousand hornets, she tried to swat them away, but found that she could not. She tried to swallow, but there was a lump in her throat that would not go away, as much as she wished it would.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her friends waving her over, giggling. But Massie walked straight past them, trying to breathe normally.

Who really wanted Melchior Gabor anyway? He wasn't anything special- so arrogant! What a snob. That would be the last time she ever talked to him again. Besides, he didn't know what he was missing.

Massie was so absorbed in her thoughts she crossed the worn dirt path without looking. The pounding of hooves in the distance, kicking up dust that made her cough. She felt as though she was outside of her own body, watching the action from the edge. She didn't feel fear- not the kind of fear that had her running. No, this feeling was different, a sort of apathy that left her frozen to her spot, numb on the inside.

Something slammed into her, Massie couldn't tell what. A person, she knew that much. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of Melchior- maybe he had finally noticed her above the rest. Whoever it was, they smelled nice, like grass and dirt and inexplicably, honey. It wasn't until her mysterious rescuer stood up that Massie recognized him. Messy hair, like he had stuck his finger into an electric spark, and brown eyes, puppy dogs eyes.

"Moritz Stiefel?"

Massie tried to keep some form of chivalry in her voice, but she knew that she was failing. Wish for a Melchior and get a Moritz. That said so much about her life. Not that there was really anything wrong with Moritz, it's just that….Massie had always found him a bit off somehow. Odd would be a good word to describe him. Ever since they were children he had been the nervous one, constantly teased and picked on by the others.

"I- should, I have to…." Moritz backed away, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste. "I should go."

Massie didn't bother saying goodbye and Moritz fled, much like a puppy with its tail between his legs. She didn't know it then, but that moment would soon come to be a turning point, a crossroads where old and new stepped over each other, lines that were not so clear now, but would be.

The old Massie Block was left behind in the dust, and the new one was just getting ready to begin.


	3. Two o'clock

_A/N: Yo, peeps. I had a lot of fun writing from Moritz's POV. And yet again, he surprised me. I didn't intend for there to be a little bit of Melchior/Moritz, but somehow it happened. I hope y'all enjoy anyway. And three guesses as to who Moritz is dreaming of. _

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_She was close, too close for his liking. So close that he could feel the heat coming from her breath, her body. Her body…..barely clothed in a thin dress, as short as a toddler's pinafore. So thin that he could see every curve, the roundness of her hips, her breasts. __Sky blue stockings adorned her long, lean legs. She was tempting him, with her legs, as she danced. Her hand reached out to touch him, tracing the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it. Her lips were closer and closer, touching his. There was fire, white hot, consuming him, leaving him panting, wanting, always wanting…..wanting too much……the fire licked the tips of his fingers and he fell into a dizzying world, her body far too close to his…….._

_-----_

Moritz's eyes fluttered open, his heart racing a mile a minute. Sweat poured down his temples and past his back, his nightshirt clinging to him in places where he didn't want cotton to be. He scrambled out of bed, kneeling next to the coarse wooden frame.

"Please God, give me consumption so I am not….tormented by these sticky dreams ever again."

It didn't seem like God would listen- he never listened before- but Moritz hoped that maybe this time, He would pay attention. Then again, it wasn't like He had the greatest track record. Sometimes Moritz wondered if He even existed, or whether or not he was directing his prayers to empty nothingness.

Moritz envied his classmates- they were so certain. They knew exactly where they were going, what they believed. Melchi didn't believe in anything, but at least he had the comfort of being solid in his decision.

Decisions- Moritz couldn't stand the waiting, the pacing, the tear in his heart that never seemed to heal. It only got worse as time passed, so agonizing that he wanted to jump out of his skin, stop the nightmare with no end. And as he pulled his jacket out of his cupboard, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

-----

"Melchi!"

Clunk. A handful of pebbles bounced against the windowsill, and harsh clattering sounds followed. Moritz winced, and despite his disbelief he uttered a silent prayer that Frau Gabor would not wake up. He generally enjoyed his company with the mild mannered woman, but now was definitely not a good time. Not to mention the fact that he had no reasonable explanation for being at her son's window in the middle of the night.

"Melchi!"

A dark head leaned out the window, stumbling a little.

"Moritz? Is that you?"

"Yes."

"It's….." Melchior dashed back into his room and then leaned back out the window, "Two o'clock in the morning."

"I know."

"Is it really that important?"

"Yes, Melchi, it is. Truly it is."

"Meet me in the hayloft in five minutes?"

"Sure."

Moritz dashed towards the back of the Gabor property- there had always been a barn there, but no one ever used it, except for Melchior. Moritz pushed open the door and entered, the sweet smell of hay calming his frazzled nerves. The hayloft had been his favorite place when they were children, back when they used to play hide and seek. He knew that it was one of Melchior's favorite places too- oftentimes Moritz would find him here, scribbling away in his journal.

He leaned up against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. He felt a sense of peace here, as if time had stopped for a single, blissful second.

"Moritz?"

"I'm here," Moritz managed to choke out, the peace replaced with anxiety furrowing deep inside his heart.

"What was so important that caused you to throw pebbles at my window in the middle of the night?"

Moritz knew his friend wouldn't usually be this irritable; being woken up in the middle of the night certainly wasn't his idea of fun. Whoops.

"I was having the most horrific nightmare, Melchi. You have to help me!" Desperation oozed out of Moritz's pores, and he clutched his friend's jacket helplessly.

"A nightmare?"

"There was this girl….she was…" Moritz swallowed hard, "She was beautiful and she was…..so close. Too close."

Melchior couldn't help but laugh, "And you call this a nightmare?"

Moritz blushed scarlet and began fiddling with the buttons on his blazer. "It felt so….sinful, Melchi."

"Sinful?" Melchior laughed even harder. "Sin is merely a product of organized religion."

Moritz turned puce as he sputtered for words, "But Melchi….it….it felt so….."

"Felt so what? Spit it out."

"Felt so good!" Moritz was dying a thousand deaths, the anxiety now full blown panic. "What am I supposed to do, Melchi? I haven't felt this way before!"

"Moritz," Melchior leaned over and placed his hand over the startled boy's. "It's supposed to feel good. That's the point. It's not wrong or sinful at all- it's normal."

"Normal?" Moritz wrinkled his eyebrows, "I don't know Melchi……everyone else says….."

"Screw everyone else!" Melchior raised his voice and Moritz shrunk back, breathing heavily. "They're not important," he said more gently.

"How can they not be important? Oh, Melchi….." Moritz's eyes were as wide as saucers and Melchior felt a sudden dash of empathy for his poor, confused friend.

"Moritz, go back to bed. You'll be fine, I promise. We'll talk tomorrow." Impulsively he pushed back Moritz's hair and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Trust me."

Melchior watched his friend disappear, knowing that if he prayed, he'd be on his knees for Moritz.


End file.
